


Why Are We Here If Not For Each Other

by loocusts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Growing Up, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Unrequited Love, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loocusts/pseuds/loocusts
Summary: A life in three partsorHinata Shoyou runs away from love only to run right back into it.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 216





	Why Are We Here If Not For Each Other

_i) define loneliness?_

Hinata Shouyou was, at best, something bright for others to see. Something shining for people to squint at and say ‘isn’t that lovely’, and then to look away.

At worst, he was something that would simmer and boil over to scorch everything in his path. Something burning for people to squint at and say ‘isn’t that dangerous’, and then to look away.

But Hinata wasn’t burning yet. Not during the weeks before that final miserable match, not the weeks where he saw and conquered his own dreams, not the weeks that in the long run might have been the happiest of his entire life. Back when the shadows stretched their loose hands into the clocks of the day and rewound them all so there was always time for ‘one more, Kageyama’ and even then, ‘one more toss!’.

Back to the days where he was invincible and believed the lie. Why shouldn’t he?

It was beautiful.

Hinata does not regret these days- his youth. Even now, his teeth itch for the long skin of those evenings. For the receive-reddened wrists and the squeak of his team’s shoes on gym flooring. For meat buns and Tsukishima’s mean glow and Yamaguchi’s nervous kindness that he hadn’t quite grown into yet. For when he was so starved his nailbeds ached for the bend of a ball, and he wanted nothing more than for Kageyama to- to what? Crawl into the inky black of his pupils and live there forever?

Hinata had come to want wings, at best, to fly.

He had come to want wings, at worst, because Kageyama’s feet never touched the ground.

Glory-glory days of sun and jerseys and boys that were not gods but thought they might be, someday. If they could get close enough to belief to touch it. And then, once;

‘Oi, Kageyama’, he started. Kageyama grunted around the straw of his milk carton. Hinata happened to know it was his tired-but-happy grunt. Hinata happened to know this because Hinata was a fool in love. This fact happened to escape Hinata until years later. ‘Do you ever get confessed to?’ It just slipped out. Hinata had started to sweat, sure that he was about to be flung into the sun. But Kageyama was calm when he replied. ‘Mm. Not as much now, but a lot at the start of the year. I turn them all down though. Volleyball is my number one- I don’t have time for stupid high school relationships. What made you think of that, dumbass? You shouldn’t be wasting energy!’

The force of Hinata’s smile would have crushed a lesser man. And there it was, the moment Hinata forgot that shining and burning were not the same thing. His eyes filled with salt and he didn’t understand why to taste them hurt so badly.

‘I’ll race you back to the gym’, he told Kageyama, already taking off. ‘That’s cheating Hinata you idiot-‘

So, Kageyama got confessed to a lot?

Why shouldn’t he? He was beautiful.

_ii) yes_

Hinata learned many things in Brazil.

First: that he was full of contradictions. That a red-haired and hearted boy could avoid being burned, over time. That exposure meant resistance. That he could get a (in Yamaguchi’s words) really, honestly just fucking awesome, tan.

Second: that everyone else was also full of contradictions. Oikawa Tooru in the specific.

Third: that sometimes you just have to accept the things you can’t change. People falling into that category. You accept the contradictions- you take what they are willing to give you. You give them what you are willing to lose.

Oikawa always stole Hinata’s after-sun for his burns. No matter how he tried, he never developed a tan. But he kept at it. Running into the grand king himself in Rio was a bit of a shock, but mostly. Mostly it was nice, to see a familiar face. Yamaguchi was the only one who ever agreed to Facetime him. Kageyama never responded to his texts. And in the end really, they got on quite well. Oikawa was an amazing setter; Hinata had always been in awe of his skills. It had just never occurred to him that one day he might be able to play with him. Back then, Hinata had been too busy trying to lick the sore heels of the boy with black hair, when they floated down low enough for him to reach.

They were both different from high school.

Oikawa was still maddening but now he was steady, too. He didn’t find Hinata as annoying as he thought he would. Slowly, beach volleyball turned to dinner, turned to drinking, turned to nights spent in Hinata’s apartment with slow hands and open mouths. Hinata’s apartment because Pedro never asked any questions; Hinata had no answers, and nobody knew if Oikawa was pretending, or if he did and just didn’t want to reveal them. Oikawa liked having the upper hand. But he was always kind to Hinata.

Contradictions.

When Oikawa stayed the whole night with Hinata it was hell; the man seemed to need no sleep, and while usually Hinata was full of energy, something about Oikawa’s restless bones in the bed beside him made Hinata so, so tired. It was worst the days they’d stayed out too long playing- Oikawa would itch and itch at his sunburns, no matter how much Hinata told him not to. Sometimes Oikawa would wake him to put after-sun on his back, not because he was that high-maintenance, but because he genuinely needed help. Oikawa liked to disguise need as tests to see how far he could push people.

They had sex on Oikawa’s last night in Rio with him pushing and prodding and asking: ‘is this okay?’, or ‘do you like this?’ or ‘how about this way?’, until Hinata got sick of it. The rest was the silence of teeth and empty hearts. The only questions they asked were with their hands.

It was too warm to cuddle, after, and Oikawa’s skin was too sore besides.

Hinata pretended to doze so he didn’t have to remind Oikawa to leave his blisters alone until the other’s phone went off.

Hinata groaned. ‘Tooru. Shut that off’.

Oikawa was ghastly in the glow of his phone. He’d hate to know he has a double chin from this angle, Hinata thought.

‘Ah, sorry, Shouyou, I have to take it. It’s not like Iwa-chan to call me’, he replied, already rolling out of the bed. ‘I’ll go out on the balcony’.

Just like that they were separate people again. And though Oikawa was quiet, Hinata couldn’t get back to sleep. He couldn’t hear what the other was saying, but he’d…never heard that tone from anyone before. Hinata felt that he was intruding on something. He left his bed to sleep in the sitting room.

It was only lying on his sofa in the dull light of the night of a hot country that Hinata realised what was bothering him. Oikawa hadn’t scratched his blisters once in all the time he was on the phone. Ah, Hinata thought.

Heartburn again.

Oikawa left the next morning with his promise to come back and defeat everyone, and Hinata let him leave, because he had come to learn one final thing in Brazil: that to get close enough to touch belief is to destroy it. He himself returned home not long afterwards, scoring his place on the MSBY Black Jackals.

It seems to him now that the question he and Oikawa were asking of each other with their hands was: are you lonely?

And the answer was yes. A resounding, sickening yes. A yes that stretched the span of their lives, and maybe even beyond that into the dark. After all, who were Hinata and Oikawa, if not two people who chewed up the world with their lonely hearts and spat ‘yes’ back into the eyes of gods?

_iii) it’s what we can’t do for each other_

By the time Hinata’s team are facing the Adlers, he has learned that he is both burning and burnt. He has learned that to be strong is to be free. That when you are able to touch belief, you don’t need it anymore; at that stage, belief is just being.

Hinata is not entirely sure he is not a god, now.

He is not entirely sure they are all not.

But Hinata is certain that the best and the worst of them is Miya. The same setter who pointed at him across the net and promised that one day, he would set for him. The same Miya who is oracle to the god of himself, as he had to learn how to be when his brother abandoned their godhood for a happier life of rice balls and normality.

Hinata has chased the calloused soles of prodigy, he has been concubine to a king, and in all his life Hinata has never not been lonely. He has never not been aching because of the space between him and those he loves. Hinata has shone all his life to cover the gaps, the hurts, the failures; to try to blind the things we can’t do for each other. He has spent his life chasing things that were destined to leave. Miya Atsumu is brash. His accent is as bad as his personality.

But he doesn’t allow for gaps, having spent so much of his own life thinking he was one half of a whole.

Back in middle school, Kageyama looked at Hinata across a net and propelled him into chasing the future. In high school, Miya Atsumu looked at Hinata across a net and threatened -no, promised- he would bring the future to him. And made good on that promise.

When they beat the Adlers, the Black Jackals get drunk off the sweat of their defeated foes. Then they go for dinner with the other teams and all their supporters and get good and drunk off proper alcohol. Kageyama corners Hinata while he’s checking his phone (Oikawa had sent him a ‘good match but here’s everything you did wrong’ text) afterwards to tell him good game and shake his hand, only to squeeze his knuckles and promise he’d win, next time. Hinata squeezed back and the force of his grin would have crushed a lesser man.

Miya pulls him away to sit at a table with Bokuto, Akaashi and Sakusa. Sakusa has had exactly one drink and is full of rage at the way Bokuto slumps against him crying happily. Akaashi cannot hide his smile, and Atsumu cannot hold his tongue. ‘Yer disgustingly in love’.

He has such a bad personality.

Hinata, if he were sober, would probably announce that he thinks he is disgustingly in love, too. But he’s not sober, so what he says is:

‘Atsumu- san is like acne, huh’.

Bokuto squawks while Akaashi bursts out laughing at how red Atsumu has gone. Sakusa just sinks further into his chair like he thinks he can slide under the table and make a quick get away.

‘Oi, Shouyou, are ya startin-‘

And Hinata kisses him before he can wind his big mouth up fully, because it’s true. Miya Atsumu was cystic. He was larger than life and irritating and inflamed. He begged you to pick and scratch at him, and just when you thought you had the last of it, he would burst wide open and ooze all over your fingers. Loving Miya Atsumu was a cycle of reminders. It was wiping your face only to find the remnants of a wound that hadn’t closed on the back of your hand. It was a threat- no, a promise- that the wound wouldn’t ever close as the proof of it dried into a streak on your palm.

What else is there to love but the promise of not leaving?

If Hinata were sober, he might say that Atsumu gave him what he was searching for. He might say Atsumu not only takes away the loneliness, he decimates it before it even arrives. He might say that there is nothing he wants that Atsumu can’t or won’t do for him. He might say Atsumu has grown on him. That there’s no space between them.

But Hinata is not sober. So, what he says is:

‘I’ve never had acne, before. It’s pretty satisfying’.

He slips his hand into Astumu’s and squeezes. Atsumu squeezes back. And that’s all Hinata had ever really wanted. Bokuto keeps crying, garbling about how he ‘loves love’, and Akaashi smiles happily while Sakusa slips even further down again, and grumbles into his face mask about how they’re both such disgusting idiots, they should be perfectly happy together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction. I don't know why I did it but I DitIt.  
> I would like to suggest we all consider every Haikyuu character ever and then consider them again. They are all amazing.  
> Mostly this was born from the hell that is loving Miya Atsumu but ALSO @ the effects of Hinata's absent Dad.  
> If you gave this your time for whatever godforsaken reason, thank you!! A comment or some kind of shout back from the void so I'm not screaming in vain would be great.  
> My twitter is https://twitter.com/locusts12  
> don't question the name or it will appear in your mirror tonight.  
> Also, the title and quotes are from 'Don' Let Me Be Lonely' by Claudia Rankine.


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